


Devour the Small

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Anne brings Angel Investigations a case that Fred and Gunn set out to solve.
Relationships: Winifred "Fred" Burkle/Charles Gunn
Comments: 20
Kudos: 6
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thenewbuzwuzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewbuzwuzz/gifts).



> **Timeline/Spoilers** \-- post series, canon divergent
> 
> **Author’s Note** \-- written for thenewbuzwuzz for their contributions in the fandom trumps hate 2019 charity auction. Also a huge thanks to thenewbuzwuzz for helping with all the Latvian folklore research that went into this and for doing some last minute beta reading. I truly appreciate it. Any mistakes are my own.

Chapter One

_Lielā zivs mazo rij_ (Men are like fish; the great ones devour the small) – Latvian Proverb

Viktorija Ozols sat at the tiny balcony table that fit perfectly on her petite balcony. The night breeze carried the noise and scents of the city. Part of her wished she had taken her growing wealth and moved herself out of the city, maybe out to Malibu where she could enjoy the ocean breezes. Part of her loved the convenience of the city.

Besides, she had no good cover story for where her money was coming from. Viktorija had started with Wolfram and Hart, which is where she had gotten the idea for her current career. Wolfram and Hart had taught her many things but mostly it reinforced one of her mother’s favorite sayings, _Lielā zivs mazo rij_ , Men are like fish; the great ones devour the small. Wolfram and Hart devoured everything it could. While Viktorija had looked good on paper, she hated court. She would have been better off teaching law rather than practicing it. She'd been ready to quit the law firm and do just that when she came across a case with the roots in the old country and they had assigned her to it. She hated to tell them that her Latvian was rusty. She was third generation and only her vecamamma, Grandmother Alisa, spoke the language fluently at the time.

It turned out she might have been a so-so lawyer but the client had liked her and introduced her to the Latvian Association of California and what she lacked in courtroom fortitude, she made up for in language skills. She refreshed her Latvian quickly and to no one’s surprise, Wolfram and Hart had books in that language. What shocked her more were just how many they had on folklore and magic. Viktorija had heard that half of Wolfram and Hart’s clients were mages and demons but she hadn’t believed it at first. Then suddenly a vampire had been her boss but briefly. The world nearly ended. Her place of employment had been the epicenter of it. 

Viktorija had done the smart thing. She gathered up all the books relevant to her interests from Wolfram and Hart’s libraries, her vecamamma and had run to Portland. Once things had calmed down Wolfram and Hart was a bare shell of itself and Angel had gone back to investigating the supernatural underworld. Viktorija figured it was in her best interests to keep tabs on both groups because she didn’t want them up her business. She had found something else in a small ornate box in that dusty library of Wolfram and Hart’s. It was that something she awaited on her balcony. She’d left her vecamamma in Portland. The old lady had liked it there and Viktorija had started her enterprise in L.A. with the idea that she’d be sure Alisa had all she could want for and she flew up every other month to see her vecamamma. She had plenty of disposable cash these days.

A sparkle in the sky caught her attention. Viktorija watched as the small star-like thing moved closer. Its drooping, bushy tail burned a deep blue meaning her companion was coming in filled with goodies. Viktorija stood and opened the French doors to the room beyond. The star soared in, hovering over the cat bed that rested next to the book cases that dominated the room. A blue flash washed out Viktorija’s vision and when she could see again a black cat sat on the bed surrounded by jewelry, bundles of cash and a sterling silver frame. The pūķis canted its gaze up at her, the feline features exceedingly smug.

Viktorija cleaned out the cat bed, grinning. She’d burn the photo in the frame and she’d head out of town with one of her many fake i.d.s so she could pawn the stuff. The gold would go to one of those places that melted it down in exchange for cash.

“You did wonderful as always,” she told the creature. She’d discovered what a pūķis was in those books she had stolen from her former employer. Well, she had heard of them from her vecamamma and other relatives as a child, of course, but she hadn’t believed the spirit existed. For months Viktorija expected Wolfram and Hart to come after her for taking the box the pūķis lived in, now situated on the bookcase but no one seemed to miss it. There weren’t many good ways to get a pūķis and she didn’t want to know how Wolfram and Hart had managed it but it was hers now and she hadn’t had to sell her soul or anything equally disturbing to get it. 

She took down a plate of food from another book shelf, serving it to the pūķis. “For you. I hope you’ll like it.” She said that every time she fed it. The pūķis didn’t ask much in return for its thieving services, just a room of its own and the first bite of all food she prepared and no mentions of God. She had never been very religious so that part had been easy enough. It was learning to cook that had been harder but she must have learned well enough to keep it happy.

Viktorija left the pūķis to eat and rest. She was starving herself. Now that it’d been fed she could settle in, eat her dinner and study what her pet spirit had brought her.

XXX

Gunn smiled as Anne walked into his office, surprised by her visit. Usually it was him and Fred visiting her at the runaway youth center she operated. They liked to help out at least twice a month if they could. She didn't often seek them out here and until a few months ago she'd have had to find them at Wolfram and Hart. Then they had discovered the big lie Wolfram and Hart had told and after stopping Wolfram and Hart’s now-failed apocalypse, they cut ties with the law firm. It had been rough. Fred had narrowly missed being turned into a hell goddess – thankfully Willow, Giles and Wes had found a way to turn the spell around, and then Wes had uncovered the Orlon Window shattering it and returning their memories. He had been pissed. They all had been and Angel mellowed their rage in the end after he explained how Connor had come unglued after killing Jasmine – Gunn couldn't even imagine killing his own child and he'd been forced to kill a human once. They understood why Angel had done what he did and forgave it. Gunn felt shockingly better for it, Fred too he knew. Connor helped at Anne's with them. Well if anyone knew what it was like to be homeless and having a crappy childhood, it was him.

“Hey Anne, what's up?” he asked.

“I think I have a case for you guys,” she said.

He blinked. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. “Really?”

She nodded. “Technically it's one of the home's benefactors but she's an old woman and embarrassed. She's also nervous to talk to yet another private investigator, so asked if I'd be an intermediator.”

“Okay, let me get everyone together. Angel's around. Wes is in Cleveland with Faith and some of the Watchers. I guess the Hellmouth is getting mouthy,” he said as Fred meandered out of one of the back rooms, book in hand.”

“Hey, Fred, Anne has a case for us. Want to go get Angel?”

“He and Connor went out something about a disturbance in a city park,” she said. “Nothing those two couldn't handle. Plus they took Spike.”

“Oh, probably true,” Gunn shrugged. The only time those two banded was when they were on the hunt. He couldn't be irritated he hadn't been included. That trio in particular could be trying at the best of times anyhow. “Guess it's just us. Let's sit down and you can tell us about it.” 

They settled in the redone lobby. Fred had donated the dumb round couch, and they had replaced it with some comfortable chairs and tables. Fred quickly rounded up some iced tea and cookies Gunn was ninety percent sure were Connor’s and he would definitely miss the sweets. She served them up regardless and settled down to hear Anne’s story.

“I’ll give you a little back story,” Anne said. “Mrs. Bell is quite wealthy. Her granddaughter’s father drove the girl out for being a lesbian. Shelby died on the street before Mrs. Bell’s detectives could find her. Now Mrs. Bell gives money to homeless youth shelters including mine. She’s a lovely person.”

“Poor woman,” Fred mumbled and there was a hint of the haunted to her tone that left Gunn wondering. As far as he knew Fred’s upbringing had been good. Was she perhaps thinking of him?

Anne nodded. “So, when she came to help out this last time, she told me about being robbed right from her safe which is top of the line. A lot of family jewelry was taken along with money. Some of the jewelry has been in the family for generations. Some might even date all the way back to the middle ages, can you imagine? The police insist it had to be an inside job. Mrs. Bell thinks it was Shelby’s father because she cut them off after what he did to Shelby, but no one has any evidence at all. She’s hired private detectives who’ve had no luck.”

Gunn made a face. “In that case, I’m not sure what you think Angel Investigations can do.”

Anne eyed him. “Because I know what you specialize in. Mrs. Bell came home that night and saw a blue light streaking away from the window in the room with the safe. The police think she almost walked in on the burglar. I think that blue light could be something supernatural.”

Gunn and Fred exchanged glances. Fred sat forward on her chair, excited. “It’s possible,” she replied.

“But it’s not much to go on.” Gunn frowned. It was practically nothing to go on. Granted they were used to starting with very little, but it didn’t mean he had to like it.

Anne spread her hands. “I know.”

“What about that person you and Angel tried to help, Charles?” Fred thinned her lips and Gunn felt sure she wanted to use a stronger term for her than ‘person’, but Fred was too naturally kind for that.

“Gwen?” he asked and at her sharp nod added, “She’s definitely a thief. It’s a place to start.”

Anne brightened. “You’ll look into it then?”

“Sure. You’re a friend, and Mrs. Bell sounds like too nice a person to have something so crappy happen to her,” Fred said.

“And if this is supernatural someone could get really hurt.” Gunn grimaced. Sometimes he had no idea what normal humans like he and Fred were doing in this business, and then he remembered why he volunteered to risk his life. He was good at what he did, and he understood the supernatural.

Relief molded Anne’s body, relaxing her muscles. “Thanks so much. I appreciate it more than-”

The front door banged open, cutting her off. Connor sauntered in, slinging Angel’s car keys around his finger. His hair was mussed, and a bruise blossomed on his cheek. His eyes brightened, seeing they had a visitor. Gunn almost grinned as Connor paused to try to make himself look slightly more presentable. They should invite women around more often. They made Connor more biddable. “Hey, Anne. How’re you doing?”

“Good, you?”

“Had a fun evening. Can’t complain.”

“Angel let you drive?” Gunn asked in shock or had Connor stolen the car, potentially over his father’s dust?

Connor nodded. “Guess he and Spike haven’t wandered back yet.” 

“No, is something wrong?” Fred stood up.

“Nah, no one’s hurt.” That wicked, feral smile of his flashed across his face, the one that never failed to make Gunn nervous. “Their pride on the other hand.” Connor cocked his head, and Gunn knew he heard something the humans in the room hadn’t picked up on.

What it was became clear: Spike and Angel bickering. They stomped inside and a stench hit them so bad Gunn gagged. Connor broke down chuckling as the two vampires stopped and glared. A vile purple sludge coated them, stiff so they were walking like Frankenstein’s monster. Gunn widened his eyes and Fred covered her mouth.

“What happened, man?” Gunn asked.

“Twisis demons,” Angel growled.

“They spray like skunks.” Spike tried to shuck his jacket, but it was stuck to his clothing. “How did mini-brood not get hit? That’s the real question. Where were you hiding?”

Connor snorted. “I was up on the fire escapes, ready to jump down on them. No one ever thinks to look up. You two blundered in head on and look what happened. Go take a bath.”

“Please,” Fred begged.

“We’re going.” Angel gave Spike a push. “Nice to see you, Anne. Sorry for the stink.”

“Not a problem. Looks like a busy night.” Anne waved.

Fred ran to get some air freshener once they were gone. Connor waved at Anne once he was sure his father was gone.

“See you. I’m going out.” He tossed up Angel’s keys and caught them. 

“He’s not going to like that.”

“He’s going to like it less that I’ve sent video of them stumbling around with that goo all over to Buffy and Giles as an addition for the Watcher’s diaries.” Connor beamed as he strolled out. “Later!”

Gunn shook his head. “Angel is going to kill him.”

“Charles.” Fred stifled a laugh. “Yes, he is.”

“Are we sure he’s not evil?”

“He is Angelus’s son, according to him.” Fred shrugged. “He’s mostly just a teenaged boy.”

“Evil enough right there, trust me.” Anne laughed.

“Sorry about that interruption,” Fred said.

Anne waved her off. “No fears. They’re out there fighting the good fight. I can’t complain about that. So where should we start with Mrs. Bell’s problem?”

“I think we should meet her and ask her about that light for starters, maybe see the house,” Fred said. 

“I’ll talk to her.”

Gunn let Fred detail a few other meters and other gewgaws she wanted to take with her to examine the safe room. He’d let her run with that. Science was her queendom. His skills rested elsewhere. In the end, Anne left with the promise to call them back as soon as she worked out the details with Mrs. Bell. He allowed himself a little grin. It felt good to have a case just for him and Fred. Things had been so chaotic since all the drama with Wolfram and Hart. This would make for a nice change of pace.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Fred glanced around the finely appointed library where Mrs. Bell had kept her safe. Anne had gotten them into the ‘house.’ Fred would have labeled it a ‘mansion.’ It occurred to her she never thought much about earning tons of money. Her early life had been all about math and physics with little time for anything else. Lately it was all about Angel Investigations. While she knew how narrow her escape had been - if Wes, Willow and Giles hadn’t been able to reclaim her from Illyria – she still missed her lab at Wolfram and Hart where she could combine her loves of science and helping Angel.

Still, it might be nice to have earned the kind of money it took to live like this. To her credit, Mrs. Bell showed them around herself, her heels dogged by John LeGrande, her assistant who seemed to be responsible for security. He was even more distraught by the theft than his employer, obviously seeing it as a major failing on his part.

“I just don’t know how it happened,” LeGrande said as Gunn examined the safe door, even though really, he and Fred knew squat about safe cracking. “It’s the best there is.”

“It doesn’t look damaged,” Gunn replied.

LeGrande shook his head. “They must have had an electronic cracker of some kind. What I also can’t understand is why no one was recorded on any of the cameras.”

“Tell them about the light anomaly,” Mrs. Bell said.

Fred whirled on her. “Light anomaly?”

Mrs. Bell fingered her chunky amber necklace. “I swear it was a ghost and I saw it floating away when I came home that night.”

“Mrs. Bell, I can assure you it wasn’t a ghost,” LeGrande said.

“I definitely want to see the ghost,” Fred said, and at LeGrande’s sour expression added,   
“People are using lighted hoodies to confound CCTV. It’s probably that but we’re definitely going to want to see it.”

LeGrande’s face smoothed back out. “Absolutely. I hadn’t thought about the hoodie thing. A strong flashlight could blind the camera. But as you can see nothing else was disturbed but the safe was cleared out.”

“Someone knew what they were looking for.”

“It was a very precise strike,” LeGrande said. “Whoever it was chose small, easily disposed of items and cash.”

“I could live without the cash, but the jewelry has sentimental value,” Mrs. Bell said.

“Of course. Anne said some pieces were very old. Could we get pictures of the items? I’m sure you had some for insurance purposes,” Fred said.

LeGrande nodded. “I’ll get you a copy, and if you want to see the video, follow me.”

“I’ll leave you to LeGrande. If you have any more questions, see me before you leave. I have something I should be doing now,” Mrs. Bell said.

“Thank you for showing us around, ma’am,” Gunn said, and she beamed. Fred had noticed the old woman still had an eye for young men.

“My pleasure.”

Once she took her leave, LeGrande leaned in and said lowly, “For all she’s pushing ninety, she’s in pretty good shape. She’s going out to the pool. She does laps every day.”

“That’s fantastic. I hope I’ll have that energy at her age,” Fred said, trying not to think about the fact that working for Angel, she might never grow old, and she sure as shooting was never going to get rich. It was a good thing she loved Angel, her friends and her work. She was rich enough when she considered that.

LeGrande gave them the pictures and let them watch the video of the robbery. The light was a beautiful bluish color, almost sparkling. Fred had never seen such a color in light. She ran through her mind all the things that could make such a light show. Theater gels were as close as she could come. She stared, and Gunn watching over her shoulder was just as intent. Was there something moving in the light? She couldn’t be sure. She glanced up into Gunn’s face, studied his concerned expression. She thought he saw it too, whatever it was, didn’t look humanoid. Could this be a demon? Did demons steal? Surely they must. Whatever it was, the light obscured the recording from before the safe was open until after it was empty. The light literally shot out of view, presumably out of the window since that’s what Mrs. Bell had reported. Had it been a man with some sort of head lamp rappelling down the wall or a demon that flew? It wasn’t much to go on.

“Can we get a copy of this?” Gunn asked.

“If it fits on a disc, certainly,” LeGrande said.

It did and they took it all home. Fred wished Cordy were still with them to help make heads or tails of this. Fred missed having another woman around. Fred had gotten good at reading the demonic encyclopedias, but Wes had so much of this in his head, he could probably rattle off a half dozen light producing demons. Or at the very least he’d know which books to start with. Fred missed having such help. Well, if she had to, she’d call him in Cleveland.

Gunn came back into the vast open space of the lobby, rubbing his eyes with one hand and balancing a tray of two mugs on the other. “I took another look at that video but now I just couldn’t look anymore.”

“Still nothing human in view?” she set up straighter, massaging her neck. “Do I smell chocolate?”

“Nothing human, and Tex-Mex hot chocolate, just like you like it.” He presented her the tray.

Fred snatched up a mug, inhaling the heady fragrance of chocolate infused with cinnamon and chilies. People could argue that Texas, southern California and Mexico for that matter were too hot for hot chocolate. Those people were wrong. “Thanks.”

Before she could address the video, she heard their friends coming down the stairs.

“I’m glad you enjoy talking to Dawn, Connor. You both are…unique so it might help you both to have this contact,” Angel said as he descended quickly. “I just didn’t know you’d be skying every night.”

“It’s Skyping and why not?”

“I think it’s Faith he wants to talk to anyhow,” Spike said, trailing behind. “And I don’t allow your brat to like my l’il Bit. She’s too good for him.”

Angel reached up and dragged Spike down the steps pushing him into the wall without a word. Actions said it all.

“You’re not the boss of me, and I like talking to _both_ ladies,” Connor smirked. “Buffy’s cool, too. Know what she said to me? She was super impressed with my vampire kill count. Said I was probably the best on the west coast. Faith even said I’d done good.”

“You are good.” Angel patted Connor’s shoulder.

“I know. Buffy said she’s _really_ be impressed if anyone could break my record of fifteen vampires in one night.” Connor smiled that scary smile of his. “But she doubts anyone here could do it.”

Spike snorted as he lit up. Fred wished he wouldn’t do that in the hotel. “Does she know Peaches and I are in town?”

“Oh, she knows.” His grin went wicked.

“Bloody hell. The day I can’t outperform a runt like you,” Spike roared. Fred didn’t have the heart to tell him Connor was actually a little taller. In his mind, Spike was six foot seven, sort of like a human Chihuahua, unaware of his size but Spike was as much bite as he was bark.

“You? You can’t hold a candle to me.” Angel sniffed. “Or my son.”

“Put your money where your mouth is, Peaches.”

“Gladly.”

As the two vampires stomped out, Connor grinned bigger than the Cheshire cat and followed them.

“That was weird,” Fred said. 

“How can you tell?”

She shrugged. “So, am I crazy or was there something moving in the light?”

“Not crazy but I don’t think it was human. The light was concentrated near the safe and you could see the wall below it. There were no legs.”

“I know that’s what was bothering me. I guess I’ll start looking up what sort of demons hover and give off light.” 

“Sounds like a plan.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The pūķis howled like a cross between a tiger and a wolf. Viktorija hurried up the steps with a freshly baked loaf of bread. She had never learned to bake from any of her relatives, though her vecmamma was good at it. Viktorija had never been interested but the pūķis was a very picky creature. It didn’t ask for much really, just its own space – hers was happy to house itself in her home office as if understanding California’s real estate issues and how unbearable they were; it forbade her to say God or anything relating to religion – easy enough once she sliced God Damn it out of her vocabulary and it wanted to have meals cooked for it. It had been worth watching YouTube tutorials on how to bake.

The pūķis was in the black cat form when she entered the office and sat in the task chair. It brushed against her leg as if it were the cat it was pretending to be and then jumped up on the desk.

She broke off a piece of the rye bread and blew on it, the steam dancing in front of her face. She set it on the table. The pūķis sniffed it but let it cool further.

“Two more jobs and I think we’ll leave here.”

“Why?” It asked in Latvian. It only spoke that language as far as Viktorija could tell.

“We’re a little close to Wolfram and Hart here. I don’t know why they had you locked away in a room or if they can keep tabs on you. I’m sure you don’t want to end up back in a locked room.”

Cat faces were remarkable in how disgusted they could look. “No.”

“Hence one or two more hits here and then we should move.”

“Where would you like to go?”

Now wasn’t that the question? Big cities probably had a branch of Wolfram and Hart embedded in them. Could she fit into country life? Hell no. Her vecmamma still lived in Portland. Dare she go back there? Wolfram and Hart in theory didn’t know she had the pūķis. Should she move her vecmamma? Maybe she’d like to go back home to Riga.

Maybe there was nowhere she’d be truly safe, and she should just accept that. After all, Wolfram and Hart’s reach was long and she might not be able to hide. On the other hand, they didn’t seem to realize she had the pūķis all this time. She might be worrying about nothing. “I don’t know yet.”

“Will you need my services there?” There was a hopeful tone to that. Did the pūķis hate being bound? Did it like merely to serve? The legends were contradictory and vague about that.

“Too early to tell. But I appreciate what you’ve done for me so far. You’ve made so much possible.” She tore off another hunk of bread and offered it.

It made a contented sound. Viktorija, once she had all the bread torn up, wanted to find their next target. Luckily so many wealthy people lived in the L.A. area and so many of them were probably deserving of being taken down a peg. She enjoyed the hunt at any rate.

X X X

Fred pushed the book away from herself, rubbing her brow with her free hand. “So dry. It was funnier in Enochian.”

Gunn cocked up an eyebrow at her. “I’ll take your word for it. I’m not even sure I know what that is.”

“Angelic writing. Wes taught me some.” Fred scowled again, wondering if she should take Connor’s example and Skype Wes. “Both books suggest that there is a creature that steals and has a brilliance to it. I think we might have the book here. Help me find it.”

She wrote the title out for him, _Mitoloģijas enciklopēdija_. Gunn glanced around the first of the two rooms they used as a library, a dubious expression on his face. “Sure.”

Wes had managed to purloin hundreds of books from storerooms Wolfram and Hart seemed to have forgotten. They had even rescued some of them that had been stolen from the Watchers’ first after their council stronghold had gone boom.

Fred had tried to put them in some semblance of order in the rooms she and Wes had set aside in the Hyperion as a library. She had settled on alphabetical because putting them in order by subject matter, which would have been more convenient, was too daunting a task. Still the M.s covered a lot of shelf space and she couldn’t always be sure her partners put things back where they belonged. They needed to find the book because it was the only lead they had. Gwen, as they found out, had been in Paris for the last several months so it hadn’t been her frying the safe with her electricity.

After ten minutes of searching Gunn said, “Found it, I think.” He pulled the book off the shelf and opened it. His face screwed up. “We have a problem.”

“What’s new?”

He showed her the opened pages. “I have no idea what language this is. Latvian, I guess. Is that a thing? Or are they one of those countries that speak three different languages because their borders change every few generations or so?”

“I’m pretty sure Latvian is a language,” she replied dubious. “Anthropology wasn’t anything I’ve studied. I was all hard science.”

“So now what?”

“Let’s see if we can find anyone who knows the language.”

Fred brought up a search engine on her computer and to her surprise there was a Latvian group in Los Angeles. “Who knew?”

Gunn shrugged. “Give them a call.”

Before she could, she heard a commotion in the lobby and went to check it out. Angel, Spike and Connor looked ready for a night of patrolling judging by the weaponry.

“Hey Fred, how is the case going?” Angel held up a hand to Connor to stop his son.

“We’ve hit a Latvian wall. By any chance any of you read that?” Fred asked hopefully.

“Sorry no and Spike’s barely literate in English.” Angel grinned wickedly.

“Wanker.” Spike flipped him the two-fingered salute. “But no.”

“Don’t look at me. The memory tinkering only gave me Gaelic for the obvious reasons,” Connor said.

“Oh well, it was worth the try.” Fred’s shoulders slumped.

“And really just what this world needed another smart-arsed Irish potato.” Spike rolled his eyes.

“ _Sassenach, Cúl Tóna,_ ” Connor replied cheerily. Fred didn’t know what it meant but judging by Angel’s expression it was bad, but he approved. “And for that maybe I won’t finish my story about what Dawn said about Buffy.”

“Tell us,” Angel replied. “Though why is it every time you talk to Dawn, Buffy comes up?”

“She _is_ Dawn’s sister, and we were talking about Dawn’s art. She said Buffy has really gotten into artistic types lately, something about the suave sophisticate tastes she picked up from someone with the idiot name of The Immortal.”

“Complete bollocks that was,” Spike grumbled.

“Guess that leaves you two evil dead out.” Connor smirked.

“Are you kidding? I’m a fine artist!” Angel thumped his chest. “And Buffy knows it.”

“You? You scribble kindergarten pictures on paper. I’m an excellent poet,” Spike said, sauntering for the front door.

“Like hell.”

“Your old man _told_ me how much he loves my poetry. I could write Buffy poems she’d never forget.”

“Because of how bad they are,” Angel growled, following Spike out.

Connor shook his head, chuckling as he trailed after the vampires.

“And again weird,” Fred said.

“Yeah, I get the impression Connor’s messing with them,” Gunn said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s a creepy kid and does creepy things?”

“Gunn.” Fred slapped his arm. “And okay, maybe. Anyhow I better make that call.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

“Thank you for seeing us so quickly,” Fred said as Rasa met her and Gunn in the lobby of the Latvian Association. The building itself was fairly nondescript, sort of like any municipal building anywhere. The inside was equally mundane. Rasa, their contact person, was a sweet-faced, heavy-set older woman who seemed honestly happy to meet them.

“Not a problem. Your phone call had me intrigued. It’s not often we get translation requests from the private sector.” Rasa beckoned for them to follow her. Her office was neat, and one wall bore a large photo of a forest glen. Fred wondered if it was from Latvia. Another picture on the opposite wall was of a quaint European town. A pang of longing to see the world hit Fred hard. “Please have a seat.”

Fred and Gunn complied. Fred started with their rehearsed story. “I have a paper I’m working on about lesser known folklore. Well, lesser known here in the States. I found a creature that seems to glow and steal but I can’t find much online. This book was listed as a source. The private library I’m using had this copy but it’s in Latvian.”

Fred offered the book to Rasa.

She ran her hand over the cover, her blue eyes lighting up. “Oh yes, this is a classic in mythology. How fun to see it again! Do you know what creature you’re looking for?”

“I think it’s a pūķis.” Fred said, and Rasa gently corrected her pronunciation.

“That is a fascinating creature. Let me get to the right pages here.”

“Mind if I record you? I thought it would be more efficient than just taking notes,” Fred said.

Rasa dove into the book, nodding. “Of course. Accuracy is usually the best option. Though with this sort of material, accuracy is very subjective.

“Oh, of course.” Fred turned on the recorder. 

“What would you like to know first?”

“What is a pūķis in the first place?” Gunn asked.

“It’s what we call dragons in Latvia,” Rasa replied. “It’s not the big toothy dragon-rider kind.” She smiled.

“What does it look like?” Fred’s belly flipped a bit. A dragon? This might be more than she and Gunn could handle.

“A pūķis can be seen as many different things such as a small bird or a rooster. It can be a cat or mouse,” Rasa said, and Fred’s rumbly gut stilled. A mouse could be dealt with. “But the pūķis has even more forms such as a shadow or human form like an old man or boy.”

“How is any of that a dragon?” Gunn asked.

“As I said, it’s not the scaly Smaug kind. Its truer form is something more nebulous. In the daylight hours, it looks like a storm,” Rasa said.

Fred frowned, exchanging glances with Gunn. “Maybe I’m wrong about what piece of folklore I’m looking for then. I was looking for something that glows at night.”

Rasa’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you’re probably not wrong. You see, in the dark a pūķis appears like a spark or star and if you look into the light carefully you can see a creature with a dark head, thin body and a _kupla_ …um.” Her brow knit as she sought the English word for it in her memory banks. “fluffy! Yes, a fluffy broad brown tail sparking like “burning spruce wood.” She tapped the words as she read them. “The tail is key. People thought that's where the pūķis carries its load. When the pūķis has a successful night of thieving, its tail leans towards the ground, and it has a different color.”

“Oh, very cool. Thank you, I think you’re right. This is what I’m looking for.” Fred beamed.

“Where would one find a pūķis?” Gunn asked, and then hurried added as Rasa raised her eyebrows, “If they were actually real.”

“There’s no real agreement there. You could get a pūķis by selling your soul or your family’s souls. I remember my grandmother telling me about a pūķis house in Riga where you could buy one. The less harsh way was to buy it with silver.”

“Certainly better than selling your soul,” Gunn agreed.

“Of course, you could always inherit a pūķis or find one in a box or make it from birch branches. Then there’s the rude, gross way.” Rasa grimaced, her fine wrinkles deepening.

“Oh?” Fred asked.

Rasa blushed a bit. “You fed someone bread made with…well there’s no good way to say it, with the semen of nine men and the person eating the bread will become a pūķis.”

“Ewww.” Fred made a face.

“That’ll spice up your paper.” Gunn laughed, and Fred lodged her elbow in his side.

“You could even hatch one from a two-hundred-year-old raven egg you carried in your armpit for weeks or years depending on which legend you listened to.” Rasa shrugged. “How they came up with that one is anyone’s guess.”

“I’m still working on how they decided on the bread thing.” Gunn shook his head. “So, it steals for its owner.”

“Oh yes, but it needs to be very well cared for in order to do so. Any mention of God or anything holy and it will leave. It lives in a special room and wants first bite of all food and some say it needs its own special food made for it. Other legends claim it requires human blood to make it happy or entire humans. It’s not a benign creature.”

“No, I can see that. Can you get rid of one?”

“Let’s see. I remember my Grandmother talking about the owner speaking of god thing, but I can’t remember the rest.” Rasa bent her head over the book, scanning down the page with a finger. “Ah, here we go. Shooting it with a gold or silver bullet works. Isn’t it funny how it always has to be a precious metal for these supernatural things? Vampires and werewolves are the same they say.”

“I’ve heard that,” Fred said, knowing full well silver didn’t actually work on vampires.

“Prayer works. You can say the Our Father prayer backwards and that’ll drive it off. There are tales of farmers stopping them with broomsticks and rowan twigs but messing up its food with spruce needles seems like a very quick and easy way to do it. So, if you have a pūķis, it wouldn’t be hard to deal with. It looks like protective symbols like the _Auseklītis_ will help as well.”

“What’s that?” Fred asked.

“The eight-sided morning star. Here.” Rasa rooted in her desk and came up with an inexpensive looking medallion with the star on it. “You can have this. We have a bunch of them left over from one of the events we held.”

“Oh, thank you so much. It’s lovely. Are you sure?” Fred accepted the pewter medallion.

‘You’ve given me an entertaining afternoon. Take the _Auseklītis_ as thanks.”

“Thank you.” Fred turned off the recorder and extended her hand to Rasa. “This is so helpful.”

“I’m glad I could help. If there’s anything more I can do, let me know.”

“We absolutely will,” Fred promised “Thank you.”

Once they were back in Gunn’s truck, he asked, “So obviously you’re thinking we found our thief in this pūķis.” At her nod, he added. “It doesn’t sound too hard to take out one of them.”

“Unless you consider they’re sort of a dragon.”

He shrugged, steering around someone pulling blindly into traffic. “That takes the form of a cat or chicken. We can pluck it.” Gunn grinned.

“But we neglected to ask how hard it will fight back.”

“I think she’d have mentioned it somewhere in her history lesson if this thing is super challenging,” he countered.

“It shouldn’t be too hard to get what we need to finish off a pūķis. The challenge is going to be finding where the pūķis is.”

He nodded. “Knowing what it is, is just half the battle. Knowing where is going to be difficult. L.A. has more than its fair share of wealthy people.”

Fred wrinkled her nose. “I know.”

“Maybe we should talk to Anne again and Mrs. Bell. They might have ideas.”

“It’s certainly a place to start.”

X X X

Fred watched the front door, sipping a coke, waiting for Anne. Gunn sat next to her, fiddling with the Gameboy they had originally gotten to entertain Connor. Anne said two more of Mrs. Bell’s friends had been hit. The woman was worried and eagerly donated a few items to the cause. Fred wasn’t sure what story Anne had used to liberate the items from Mrs. Bell but she figured it was easier to get than rowan twigs. Fred had no idea where rowans even grew.

“When we told you to talk to Dawn, we didn’t mean every night,” Spike grumbled as he came down the stairs with Angel and Connor in tow. Fred didn’t even wonder where they were going this time.

“Why not? We have a lot to say. She is the only person I’ve ever known with a history as weird as my own.” Connor shrugged.

“Ignore Spike, son. It’s not a problem if you like talking to Dawn.”

“Good. We were talking clothing, don’t know why. I assume it’s something women like based on my implanted memories and the fact that Faith and Buffy chimed in on this topic too. I have to say I’m not shocked that Faith is pro-leather pants,” Connor said.

“No one’s shocked by that.” Spike chuckled.

“I don’t think I’d look good in leather pants,” Connor lamented, and Fred watched Spike, Angel and Gunn roll their eyes in concert. “So, I was trying to figure out what they might like that would be doable.”

“Do you need to look further?” Spike extended his arms.

“They said you were too sloppy and informal, though my style is more like yours than Angel’s, I guess. If you’re curious Dad, you’re too stuffy with all the button downed shirts. Those should be for dress-up occasions, so I guess if I blend you two, I’ll be okay.”

“Bloody hell. They think I’m sloppy?” Spike pouted.

“Very sloppy.” Connor propelled him toward the door. 

“I thought Buffy liked how I dressed,” Angel muttered, equally mopey.

“Think again. Come on, we’re burning night time. Let’s get patrolling,” Connor demanded, and the two vampires left.

“Connor, come here a minute,” Gunn called, surprising Fred.

Connor bounced over. “What’s up?”

“You’re just screwing with them, aren’t you?” Gunn asked.

Connor’s grin was bigger than one on a Jack-o-lantern. “Yeah. Well, I am talking to Dawn but I’m embellishing the conversation a bit for those two.”

“Why?” Fred asked, exasperated with him.

“You suggested I could use more culture like theater.” Connor swept his hand toward the door Angel and Spike had exited through. “This is the best theater ever.”

“I didn’t have this in mind,” Fred protested.

“I know but this is way more entertaining for me, and I can’t afford theater tickets anyhow.” He shrugged. “Don’t tell them! I want to see how long it takes before they figure it out on their own. See you later.” Connor jogged out the door after the vampires.

“I hope to hell I’m there when they do because them kicking his butt would definitely be better than theater.” Gunn laughed.

Fred shook her head. “All of you are awful.”

“I think you should know this by now.” Gunn grinned.

Fred was spared from responding as Anne arrived. She sailed in with something of a confused look on her face.

“I have what you asked for, Fred.” Anne handed over a plastic bag of broken silver and gold chains. “What do you need this for?”

“I’m not trusting that the only thing we need to do to stop a pūķis is recite the Lord’s Prayer backwards,” Fred said.

“Or that we could do that under fire,” Gunn grumbled. “Betting it’s not going to go quietly.”

“No, and in theory gold and silver bullets can kill them hence the jewelry.”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to turn them into bullets? You can do that?”

Fred nodded. “I found a reloading kit among Wes’s things in the store room a while back.”

“I guess pūķis aren’t the only things that need precious metals to kill them,” Gunn said. “But can you do this, Fred?”

“I think so. The science is pretty straightforward. The hardest part will be smelting this stuff down so thanks, Anne. I don’t have a lot of silver or gold just lying around,” Fred said. 

“Can we do this now? I’d like to watch,” Anne said. “And I want to tell you what Mrs. Bell said.”

“Of course.”

Fred led Anne deeper into the building to the workshop. Gunn sorted gold from silver as Fred set up the equipment. Anne related which of Mrs. Bell’s friends had been hit in the last few days and who they thought would be next. They appreciated that bit of info; it would give them somewhere to look for the pūķis.

“Do we just destroy this thing off the bat?” Gunn asked.

“I’d think so,” Anne replied.

“But that wouldn’t get back Mrs. Bell’s stuff,” he replied.

“True. We want to see if we can get Mrs. Bell’s stolen property back,” Fred said. “Do you think we can follow the pūķis back to whoever is controlling it?”

“It flies. It might not be possible, but we could try,” Gunn replied.

“Do you think this will be safe?” Anne asked.

“What is with this job?” Gunn said, and she spread her hands with a sheepish expression. 

“Fair point. How long will all this take?” Anne asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this, but we’ll be ready. I just hope you’re right about the potential next targets because it won’t be easy finding the pūķis by accident,” Fred said. It might be next to impossible to find without forewarning. Even if they did find the pūķis, they could fail to track it. They had to do it because she hated the idea of the pūķis going on to rob more people. Fred turned back to her bullet making, determined to stop the pūķis and whoever was pulling its strings. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Gunn was always full of surprises. Fred didn’t know where he’d borrowed the motorcycle from nor the helmets to go with it but that didn’t matter. She hadn’t known he knew how to ride but it shouldn’t be that shocking. She hadn’t been on the back of a bike since high school when she’d gone through a short-lived Bad Boy phase. Though, she supposed some might consider Gunn part of that phase. 

Regardless, it would make it easier to thread through traffic to follow the pūķis back to its master; certainly more easily than maneuvering a truck through L.A. traffic. She had wanted to recruit the others to help but they were out the door before she could, already bickering like an old married couple with Connor grinning like this was the best comedy of the year. In his short-lived, spell-induced college days he must have majored in button pushing. Maybe it was just as well. They would have had to find another motorcycle or risk losing Angel in his big boat of a car, and at the end of the day Rasa hadn’t enumerated any deadly spells or abilities for the pūķis. She and Gunn could handle this.

They’d taken Anne’s suggestion and tucked themselves into the relative seclusion of the tree-lined road that fed into Mrs. Bell’s neighborhood. From their spot they could easily see the drives to two of the estates. It wasn’t as if they could have wandered onto the grounds for a closer look anyhow. Even if Mrs. Bell had warned her friends and neighbors about the possible danger, she couldn’t tell them the true culprit, and the owners would probably argue they already had all the security they needed.

Something Fred had learned working with Angel and the others, stake outs were deadly boring. She wanted nothing more than for something to happen and get it over with. The gun hidden in her purse weighed her arm down and she ended up putting it on the ground next to her. Her throat scratched from thirst, but Fred didn’t want to drink too much. It wasn’t like she could easily pee against a tree like Gunn could.

“Anne and Mrs. Bell’s guess could be wrong,” Gunn said after a few, drawn out hours had passed.

“I know. This is such a needle in a haystack,” Fred replied, leaning against his shoulder as they stared up above the tree line, the only way they had to monitor the pūķis. They hoped to spot it in mid-flight.

“Usually the monsters come after us. Never thought I’d be appreciative of that. At least it’s easier.” He grunted.

Fred nodded, fingering the _Auseklītis_ Rasa had given her. She’d decided it would be wise to wear it on the mission. How did detectives do this day in and day out? Finally, another hour later, a twinkle caught her eye. She whipped up the binoculars, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. She kept the binoculars trained in the area she had seen the flash. Gunn stood up, peering in the same general direction.

Fred gathered her legs under her, pushing up from the ground. If this was something, they’d have to move quickly. She slid the shoulder strap of her purse around her, the pistol banging off her hip. Suddenly a bright light illuminated the sky, streaking upward. Sure enough, she could make out a tail, hanging low and glowing a deep blue around its bushy brown bits.

“That’s it!” she cried.

Gunn jumped on the bike, slamming his helmet into place. As he started the engine, Fred got on behind him, stuffing the binoculars in her purse too. She looped an arm around his waist as they took off. She kept her eyes skywards, shouting directions to Gunn as he drove. It wasn’t easy to follow something that could fly in a straight line when they could not always go the way it was, but she managed to keep it in sight until it went inside a third-story balcony door.

Gunn parked but the building had a locked front door. Fred scowled at it. “I don’t know if getting someone to buzz us in is smart, especially if I have to use the gun.”

“There’re probably cameras in the lobby too. Come on, I have an idea.” Gunn loped off around the building. Next to the balconies ran the fire escape, a necessity that rather ruined the aesthetics of the building, not to mention a security risk, which is exactly how he exploited it.

They went up the fire escape to the balcony they saw the pūķis enter. Gunn pulled on some thin leather gloves he’d had the foresight to bring and tried the door. Unsurprisingly it was locked but proved easy to pick. Once inside, they were greeted with a nearly empty condo with a few moving boxes sitting on the floor.

“I think we got here just in time,” Fred whispered, and he nodded but then froze. He canted his gaze to the hallway. “I heard it too.”

They crept up along to the back room where the light slowly coalesced into a black cat, pilfered goods ringed around it. In the room, holding a plate of pulled chicken, was a young woman. She slipped the plate to the cat, not noticing them.

The cat, however, had no trouble spotting them, its eyes flashing fire. It snarled something, obviously words but not in English. The woman whipped around, staring at Fred and Gunn in horror.

“How did you get in here?” she yelped.

Fred pulled her gun, almost hating to do it. This woman wasn’t a demon, but she had summoned one, was feeding it and using it to steal. “We don’t want to hurt you, but we can’t have the pūķis robbing everyone blind. We want Mrs. Bell’s jewelry back.”

“I’m going to call the cops,” she said hesitantly. Yes, they had broken in but how would she explain away the purloined goods? 

“Go ahead,” Gunn called her bluff. 

“Just who are you?” she demanded to know.

“I was about to ask you the same,” Fred said.

“I didn’t work for Wolfram and Hart for so long to fall for that. Get out of my house.”

“Not likely, not until we deal with that.” Fred gestured to the pūķis with the pistol. “I would hate to have to shoot it so let’s try this. Evil from us deliver but temptation.”

The pūķis shrieked, growing in size to a panther. Fred faltered. The woman grabbed a box and flung it at Fred who nearly dropped the gun. The pūķis charged them and Gunn leapt into the fray, kicking the thing in the ribs. Fred knocked the woman aside but couldn’t get a bead on the pūķis as it tussled with Gunn. 

“Into not us lead and us against trespass,” Fred said slowly. It was harder to say the prayer backwards than she thought even though she had practiced it. The woman socked her in the jaw rocking her head back. 

Gunn whipped around, grabbing the woman by the hair hauling her away. He had to abandon the rescue attempt as the pūķis raced at him, nails gouging the floor. Fred rolled to the side, took aim and shot the pūķis in the side with the gold and silver bullet. It broke apart into a mass of twigs.

The woman screamed, falling to her knees, picking up the twigs frantically. “You killed him! You had no right.”

“And you had no right to rob people using a monster.”

“He was harmless,” she snapped. “And those people were so rich, what did it matter that they lost a few baubles? All I wanted to do was get enough to start over and take care of my vecmamma.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Gunn panted. “But there had to be better ways than stealing.”

She narrowed her eyes at them. “My neighbors would have called the cops after hearing the shots. I’m going to tell them you broke in here to rob me and you’re the ones robbing everyone. That you dropped it when I fought with you.” She pointed to the pile of stolen goods.

“Shit,” Gunn groaned.

Fred picked up all the looted jewelry and wads of cash. “I’ll take this back to its rightful owner. Where’s the stuff from three nights ago, from the Bell estate? Give us that and we’re gone. I know I can’t get all the stolen goods back from you and you’re right, maybe the police will think we stole it, but I bet you have way more stashed around here and if I say you stole it, they might believe me.”

The woman glared, and then stabbed a finger toward the far wall to a cardboard box. “In there. Take it and get out of here.” She wiped at the tears on her face as she cradled the twigs.

“What should we do?” Fred asked.

Gunn glanced toward the window hearing sirens. “We get the hell out of here. We finished the pūķis. Grab the loot and we hoof it.”

Fred nodded, grabbing the box and following Gunn. She was surprised that the woman was still crying. Had she cared about the pūķis? Should they just leave her here? It was so much easier when it was merely demons they had to deal with. Kill them and go. A human in the equation just made everything sticky and unclear.

They made it to the motorcycle and away without anyone noticing them. No one lit them up on the way back to the Hyperion, but Gunn took the long circuitous route to get there regardless. They almost ran into Angel as they went inside. He looked particularly harried and she wondered what Connor and Spike had done this time. Fred got her answer instantly.

Spike was sprawled on the floor, laughing at the chandelier. He smelled like a brewery. Connor perched unsteadily on the coffee table, his blue eyes the particular unfocused of someone profoundly drunk.

“What is going on here?” Fred asked as Gunn walked their rescued goods over to the front desk.

“I found a liquor store and I drank it!” Connor proclaimed, obviously well pleased with himself.

“Angel! You let him get drunk?” She rounded on the vampire who spread his hands.

“Spike had him halfway to lit by the time I caught up with them,” he said in his defense.

“Why?” She nudged Spike with her toe, and he swatted at her, missing by a mile.

“Because the little wanker was screwing with us,” Spike said, trying to sit up. He managed it but looked like a rag doll in the attempt. “He was never talking to Buffy.”

“I did once.” Connor protested, holding up two fingers in a sad attempt to prove his point. 

“So, I thought, know what would pay a little kid like him back? Bed spins, nausea and a killer hangover.”

“Idiot,” Angel grumbled.

“Why do you look drunker than him?” Gunn asked.

“Because I was drinking with him, you know cheerleading by example.” Spike shrugged. “He has a heroic ability to drink. I should have known to try to outdrink an Irishman.”

“Hey, negative stereotype!” Connor growled.

“Seriously, and you’re right, a Sassenach like you had no prayer,” Angel said. “Connor, do you feel okay? You drank far too much. You shouldn’t be drinking at all, you’re under-aged.”

“Pfft.” Connor waved him off. “Like you weren’t drinking at my age.”

“It was different times,” Angel argued.

Connor hopped down from the table, far steadier than Spike. “And what you both forget is I’m a college guy now. A _fraternity_ brother thanks to your idiot spell. You’re looking at the Delta house keg champion.” He thumped his chest, grinning broadly enough someone could have parked a Mac truck inside.

“Terrifying,” Gunn shook his head.

“Connor, that’s not what college’s for,” Fred protested.

“Oh please. Like you didn’t partake in college, Fred. I now know what that smell is, you know the one you always tried to tell me was incense!” Connor laughed. “Got any more stashed away?”

“Connor!” Angel barked.

“I do not.” Fred poked him in the chest. She absolutely did have a little pot hidden away but that was hers for when she needed to free her brain up to solve some tricky problem. “Maybe you should go lie down.”

“Okay, fine but I’m leaving Spike where he is,” Connor said, “but first.” He pulled out his flip phone and started recording.

“Bloody hell, what are you…I hate these new phones. Not fair.” Spike flipped him off and started ranting at Connor, fangs out.

Angel booted Spike, knocking him over, and then grabbed the phone away from Connor. “Upstairs, now.”

“Fine, what a pain in the ass. I’m taking this time to remind you what you said about _your_ father.”

“Get moving before I do to you what my father did to me,” Angel warned.

“I’m terrified to know what that might be.” Connor snagged his phone back and staggered his way up the stairs. 

Angel looked at Fred. “He really can drink.”

“Oh my god, you’re proud of him,” she accused him, shocked.

Angel shrugged. “He’s my boy, a chip off the old block, and for the first time, he’s actually acting like a normal teenager. How did it go tonight?”

“One pūķis down and we need to call Mrs. Bell and Anne to tell them we have back her stuff plus some of her friends’ stuff too,” Gunn said.

“And we let the woman who summoned the pūķis go because she was human and we didn’t know what else to do,” Fred said a little sadly.

“Sometimes there isn’t much you can do,” Angel said. “Good work guys. I’m leaving Spike where he is too. If he gets too obnoxious, smother him with a pillow.” Angel smirked.

“It won’t kill him,” Gunn said.

“No but maybe he can’t talk with a mouth full of pillow.” Angel glanced back at Spike who gave him the finger. “Maybe.”

Gunn snorted and Angel gave them a quick wave, heading off. Gunn slipped an arm around Fred’s waist pulling her in for a kiss. “We did good.”

“Yes, we did. At least Mrs. Bell will get some of her stuff back. I hope the medieval items are in here.”

“That would be nice,” Gunn agreed. “I was thinking we go upstairs and….celebrate.”

“I like the way you think.” Fred smiled, pulling him into a kiss and expertly ignoring Spike’s sounds of disgust or maybe he was throwing up beer. If he was, he was on his own. She took Gunn’s head and hauled him toward their bedroom. All missions should end so bloodlessly.

**Epilogue**

Viktorija gazed out from her new Portland Oregon two-bedroom condo. Her vecmamma hadn’t wanted to move in with her but she was only a few doors down so Viktorija could keep track of her. The second room had another purpose besides being her office. She went into the room to the cat bed she kept in a dark corner. She looked into the tented blanket she had over it. In the bed, a bundle of twigs moved and squirmed. Slowly but surely the pūķis was putting itself back together. 

Viktorija gently touched one of the slender, resilient twigs. “Soon, my friend, soon we’ll be together again.”


End file.
